Miss Caroline's First Day
by janefan13
Summary: This is an assignment from my English class that was half-decent that is part of Scout's first day of school, but told from Miss Caroline's POV


"Everybody who goes home to lunch hold up your hands," I said as I walked up and down the rows. I was not surprised that most of these children were slightly better dressed, as their parents were professionals, not just poor farmers.  
"Everybody who brings his lunch put it on top of his desk." The various buckets were mostly filled with respectable food, but one or two contained something or other that was meant just to disgust me. It seemed that everyone had brought their lunch except for one boy, sitting at his desk without any shoes on. What was his name? Walter…Walter Cunning? No, it was Walter Cunningham.  
"Where's yours? Did you forget your lunch this morning?" Walter just stared forward as if he was ignoring me. "Did you forget it this morning?" I wasn't certain if he'd heard me, and I was about to repeat me question again when the boy mumbled "Yeb'm.  
I walked up to my desk at the head of the class and pulled out my coin purse, removing a shiny quarter. I returned to stand just next to Walter. "Here's a quarter," I said to Walter. "Go and eat downtown today. You can pay me back tomorrow."  
I was surprised when the little boy murmured, "Nome thank you ma'am," and shook his head. Didn't this boy want something to eat?  
I was getting slightly impatient. "Here Walter, come get it," I ordered him. He once more shook his head, causing me to repeat my insistence and he his denial. It was then that I noticed that some of the other children were whispering between themselves.  
My attention was drawn away from Walter when Jean Louise started to speak. "Ah- Miss Caroline?"  
"What is it, Jean Louise?" I asked, trying to hide my frustration with the little girl.  
"Miss Caroline, he's a Cunningham," she said quickly and sat back down as if that statement should make it perfectly clear.  
"What, Jean Louise?" This was becoming very frustrating.  
"Walter's one of the Cunninghams, Miss Caroline." I was well aware of the boy's last name, but it still did not explain Walter's refusal of the quarter.  
"I beg your pardon, Jean Louise?"  
"That's okay, ma'am, you'll get to know all the county folks after a while. The Cunninghams never took anything they can't pay back- no church baskets and no scrip stamps. They never took anything off of anybody; they get along on what they have. They don't have much, but they get along on it. You're shamin' him, Miss Caroline. Walter hasn't got a quarter at home to bring you, and you can't use any stove wood."  
This statement completely baffled me. She was, at once insulting Walter's monetary stance and my own intellect by assuming I would or could know that already. The anger boiled up: I could feel every muscle in my body stiffen and grow rigid. Finally, I stormed forward, grabbing Jean Louise by the collar. "Jean Louise, I've had about enough of you this morning. You're starting off on the wrong foot in every way, my dear. Hold out your hand." A puzzled look crossed her face and she looked back to the class with a silent question. When she finally complied, I took my ruler and hit her on the hand twelve times, just enough to make it look a little red. "Now go stand in the corner."  
The class looked at me with shocked silence. _There_, I thought to myself. _Now they know I mean business_. I was about to go back to the flashcards when one of the students started chuckling. The others looked at him, wondering what was funny. He whispered something back, and more people started laughing. Before long, the entire class was in an uproar. In an effort to regain a semblance of order, I shouted over the ruckus "Anyone laughing when I count to three will get the same punishment as Jean Louise!" They kept laughing. "One!" The laughter grew louder. "Two!" It was absolute chaos. "Thr-" I was interrupted.  
"If I hear another sound from this room I'll burn up everybody in it. Miss Caroline, the sixth grade cannot concentrate on the pyramids for all this racket!" Miss Blount, one of the senior staff instructed and the class grew silent, but I could feel the blood rushing to my cheeks at the shame. I continued to show the children the flashcards until lunch, and once every last student filed out of the door, I sunk my head down to my desk and started to cry.


End file.
